


You Know Who You Are and Yes You're Gonna Break Down

by GenderqueerSpaceWives



Series: All of Time and Space, and I Run Into My Wife [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Post-Library River Song, alcohol mention plus very limited use of it, light intoxication. but she could also just be suffering from gay panic, some light angst??? possibly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenderqueerSpaceWives/pseuds/GenderqueerSpaceWives
Summary: “I’m Professor River Song.”I’m John Smith, she wants to say. Thankfully, she stops herself before she can, having realised that would probably make it obvious to River who she is.“I know,” she says instead. Which isn’t really an improvement to be honest.☆The Doctor does not expect their trip to a New Years party to include meeting her wife for the first time in ages. However, when it does, she certainly expects herself to do the responsible thing and ignore her. Which is definitely what she does. 100%. She definitely doesn't stare at River until she starts talking to her. And under no circumstances does she flirt badly, dance even worse, and ignore the suspicion in River's eyes. She definitelydoesn'tdo that.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/River Song
Series: All of Time and Space, and I Run Into My Wife [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1267433
Comments: 12
Kudos: 173





	You Know Who You Are and Yes You're Gonna Break Down

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even gonna talk about how long it took me to finish this story because it's almost embarrassing. (The fact that I thought it appropriate for them to celebrate New Years might be a clue though... But hey, they're specifically Not On Earth, so New Years could be anytime. Also there are more than one calendar just on Earth.)
> 
> Anyway, I saw a musical-ish in school back in January, and they had a gay storyline, and because I can only think about one thing (Space Wives) I went "woah, I could turn this into a fanfic". And then I did.
> 
> Except the story is hella different and really the only thing they have in common is the clothes and the fact that they're gay. But yeah that's basically the premise of the setting. Oh, and they sang Stop by Spice Girls, so that's the soundtrack to this (/much of the inspiration for how everything played out and 13's internal struggle). Also, I feel like I should mention it because I think it's a cool coincidence: When I was finishing the first draft I was playing my Space Wives playlist (on shuffle), and right as I wrote the last sentences, that song started playing.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

The Doctor didn’t switch out of her usual outfit very often. But when she’d received an invitation for the New Year History Gala, she’d had no choice. It specifically stated all the attendees had to wear clothes that would’ve made them fit right in twenty years in the past. And while she was a bit sad she had to leave her coat behind, she’d largely bounced at the chance.

Not that it would’ve made any difference if she dressed up or not. It wasn’t as though the other people there even knew what a human was, so they definitely didn’t know enough about human fashion to see if she were wearing it. (Not that she was human, but with her spending a lot of her time on Earth, having a majority of human friends and not feeling very keen on Gallifreyan fashion… she decided it was best to go for a human approach.)

She’d offered to take them shopping in the actual time period they were trying to emulate, but they all shut down that offer quite quickly. Apparently it was “cheating”. By that logic a lot of the clothes in the Tardis wardrobe should be considered cheating as well, since they had actually been purchased back then. Though she decided against mentioning that.

But in the end they were all happy with what they’d found. She and Ryan even agreed on what they thought was an hilarious idea, and when they spun around in almost identical outfits, Yaz and Graham sighed. Though something wasn’t quite right with what she was wearing, she concluded when looking at herself in the mirror. It all felt a bit boring. Her usual boots, and a plain white shirt tucked into a pair of jeans the same shade as her jean jacket. (Seriously though, who wore plain white shirts? She did, apparently) But Yaz realised what was missing and threw her a rainbow pin without a single word, and the Doctor grinned as she poked it through the collar of her jacket.

Since she hides the Tardis in a broom closet somewhere, they don’t get to see the (admittedly very impressive) entrance of the house that hosts the gala, which is a shame. But she supposes they can always pop out and see it later.

While the Tardis parks herself in the broom closet without too much of a fuss, she's practically spitting sparks of excitement, and her whirring sounds almost like she’s laughing at the Doctor.

“What are you up to this time, old girl?” the Doctor whispers, quiet enough not to worry her friends and quiet enough to not have to live through another round of them making fun of her for how she talks to her ship. But she gets no answer, except for an expectant hum in the back of her head. It’s as though she’s telling her that she better not come back until she’s experienced whatever it is the Tardis wants her to see.

A gala sounds like it should be all fancy. Suits and ball gowns and tiaras and all the other things humans wear when they want to show off their money. However, this isn’t a human gala, which is proved when they arrive outside the ballroom. Sure, there are the ones who couldn’t resist their million diamond dresses. And sure, they might be in the majority, but there are also people who have clothes much more similar to their own.

“See, that’s what I told you.” She elbows Yaz and not so subtly points at a group of people wearing what looks like vibrantly coloured fleece nightgowns. In contrast to them, Yaz’s jeans and shiny cropped purple tank top looks very appropriate. And with the tattoo choker on her neck, she might as well have been wearing a ball gown.

Inside the ballroom it’s more sophisticated, with the chandeliers above them leaving the room glowing an enchanted yellow, and well dressed waiters scattered across the room. Their golden trays carry glasses filled to the brim with a drink, which, much to the Doctor’s disappointment, turns out to be alcoholic. Graham sips on one with an impressed smile, after having thrown a glance at the Doctor to make sure he’s not about to poison himself.

Almost immediately the Doctor loses Ryan and Yaz to the dancefloor and they dance out of sight. Which is definitely not a problem for her. As far as she can tell, they’re not in any danger here, and what does it matter if she doesn’t get to hang out with two thirds of her friends? She still has Graham. She turns to him to make a comment about something that has absolutely nothing to do with Ryan and Yaz disappearing, but finds he has already ended up hauled away to a corner. She scrunches her nose, but it doesn’t stay for long. From what she can tell, the corner is loudly discussing the coming meal. She snickers, of course Graham would be dragged into a conversation about food. She suspects that he’s hidden one of his famous sandwiches in a pocket somewhere, and if she doesn’t keep a close eye on him, he’ll be thrown out for bringing unlicensed food into the ballroom. Probably should have mentioned that before all of them went their own ways. Duty of care and all. Oh well.

She decides against tracking them all down, resigning herself to deal with hypothetical problems as they arise. Instead she drifts towards the bar, hoping to find something not containing alcohol. Today it seems, luck is on her side, and a minute later she balances a glass of purplish juice made from what can be best described as alien pineapples between her fingers. Not her favourite, but it’s tasty enough. And definitely not only a distraction from the fact that her friends once again have left her all on her own. She loves being on her own.

Biting her lip, she stirs the juice with a flick of her wrist. Are you supposed to stir juice? To be on the safe side she does it once more.

It takes her another minute to realise the chair she’s sat on is one of those you can spin around on, and when she does, she spins around to lean her back against the counter. A frown forms when it becomes apparent that jean jackets don’t swoosh nearly as well as her coat. Strange as it is, she misses the comforting feeling of knowing that if she feels dramatic, she can always storm off with it fluttering behind her.

From her seat the whole party unfolds in front of her, but she stares straight into nothing and lets it all blur together. The last she sees is a red dress dancing across the room, twirling around a black suit. She hasn’t danced in a while. Not ballroom dancing. Which is weird since they have been to their fair share of balls and parties you were technically supposed to dance at. Yaz had asked her once or twice, but something else had always come in the way. Exploding hair pins, a very interesting dessert, the pain she feels when remembering the last time she’d danced.

It must be almost a hundred years ago now. And yet she can still feel a warm hand on her shoulder, and another grasping her own hand. And if she really tries, a body pressed against hers and a head leaning on her shoulder, breaths warming her neck. It all feels so real, and yet it wasn’t even this body that danced that dance.

She does her best to not think about it, and spins around to refill her glass. When she looks up to put back the juice jug, her gaze hitches. All muscles in her face stop working. Her tightened lips turn slack. No. No, this is not happening. This _can’t_ happen. This isn’t fair.

Walking towards the bar is the red dress she’d seen dancing before zoning out. It’s not the dress itself that stops her in the middle of her breath, but the woman wearing it. _River_.

Beautiful as ever, an enchanting smile on her lips, and chatting along with the man in the black suit. The Doctor lowers her gaze, and finds an arm slung over River’s shoulder. She gulps. The red dress flows in the wake of River’s confident stride towards the bar, and even though it’s floor length, she glimpses a pair of red heels. Her hearts punch her gut with a memory of those very same heels, hanging on the sliding monitor she used to have in the Tardis.

She looks away, but now River is within hearing range, so the Doctor can hear every word she says. She doesn’t process them, though, only that it’s River saying them.

River’s voice draws closer, and a strand of hair falls in front of the Doctor’s face, but she doesn’t have the power to brush it behind her ear. Actually, she barely has the power to keep breathing, and she suspects that if she hadn’t had her trusty respiratory bypass, she’d be tipping for air.

When she thinks it safe to look up again (if safe means that she’s somewhat gathered her thoughts and isn’t about to do something incredibly stupid), River stands on the other side of the counter, looking at the drinks menu. But as the Doctor’s eyes search for something in River’s appearence, they meet River’s. Only for a split second, but it’s enough for her to lose all her senses again. With her cheeks feeling a bit warm, she focuses her eyes on her glass of juice. This was not happening. This couldn’t be happening.

But the Doctor can’t help but sneak a glance or two (or possibly quite a few more…) at River when she pours her drink and tells the black suit to go on without her, that she’ll come too in just a moment. When she sips the top layer of her champagne with a pleased expression, licks her lips while staring out into nothing. When River shakes her head and breaks her train of thought, surveying her surroundings. When River’s eyes meet hers and she smirks.

“Haven’t you heard it’s rude to stare?” River says as she leans over the counter. Her eyes are only half a metre from hers, and they twinkle in the chandelier light as she eyes the Doctor up and down.

The Doctor simultaneously wants to run away from her as fast as she possibly can, and throw herself in River’s arms. Run her fingers through her soft hair, press their noses together, tell her that she never should have let her go. She compromises by letting herself look into Rivers eyes with a glued on smile and a pretense of not knowing her.

“I wasn’t staring,” she lies.

“Well then that’s your loss.” She winks, and if the Doctor’s face wasn’t red already, it sure as hell is now. “I wouldn’t have minded. In fact, quite the opposite…”

“Are you flirting with me?” the Doctor asks as River makes her way from the other side of the counter to the bar stool next to her. Because she doesn’t know what other way she can respond to very obvious flirting coming from someone who should be dead to her. But River has never managed to _feel_ dead to her. Though the Doctor supposes she’s always been. From the first time they met, up until she was technically nothing more than a photo on the desk in her office and a voice the Doctor kept with her in the back of her head.

“Well, what else is a girl supposed to do when there’s someone as beautiful as you sitting at the bar all alone.” River smirks and the Doctor’s cheeks flush. How is it that her wife calling her beautiful still manages to fluster her even after having been married for millennia?

“Weren’t you dancing with someone?” she asks, trying her best to not examine every part of River’s dress. It’s gorgeous. The pleated red fabric nearly reaches the floor, and the short sleeves (made of the same flowy material) aren’t exactly sleeves, but more of an extension of the top half of the dress.

“He’ll manage.” The Doctor throws a look towards the man in the suit, who’s glaring at them. He doesn’t look like he’s managing too well. River holds out her hand. “I’m Professor River Song.” The Doctor takes it. Her hand feels different to hold with her new hands, but still so familiar. It is still just as soft, still fits right into hers. _I’m John Smith_ , she wants to say. Thankfully, she stops herself before she can, having realised that would probably make it obvious to River who she is.

“I know,” she says instead. Which isn’t really an improvement to be honest. River smiles, self-satisfied. Why doesn’t she have any control over what her mouth decides to say? Then she wouldn’t say stuff like that, that almost reveals who she is.

“You’ve heard of me then?” Although River’s smile is friendly (and her tone and the way her eyes travels up and down the Doctor are not exactly _friendly_ per say), it lacks the intensity of the way she used to look at her.

“Yes?” she answers, hoping River wouldn’t push the matter further. Thankfully, she doesn’t.

“And your name?”

“Jodie,” she says, mind travelling back to that one actress Yaz had shown her a picture of and told her she looked exactly like.

“Just Jodie?” River asks, eyebrow raised.

“Just Jodie,” the Doctor says. “Not really a fan of surnames, to tell you the truth.”

“Surnames in general, or just your own?” Though an innocent question, River’s eyes are full of mischief.

“In general really. I’d rather have a name that everyone just knows it’s me immediately when hearing it.” The Doctor taps her fingers on the counter, cursing her inability to act like a human. Or, you know, a normal person who isn’t madly in love with the person in front of them.

“Shame,” River says, letting her eyes fall to the Doctor’s tapping hand. “Otherwise you could’ve had mine.” The Doctor’s fingers freeze, only millimeters away from the next tap. River looks up to meet her eyes with a wink. The Doctor doesn’t move an inch. She is unbelievable. She doesn’t even know her, and yet she’s implying stuff like this.

“You don’t even know me,” she points out to River, who hasn’t heard her thoughts screaming exactly that at full capacity. River lays her hand on the Doctor’s.

“I suppose that’s a problem we’ll have to solve.” She smiles, and the Doctor returns it, all while her head screams at her. It’s too big a risk, it says, bombarding her with reasons this is a bad idea.

“I suppose it is,” she says. Much to her head’s dismay.

“Doctor!” River’s head whips towards Yaz’s voice. With River’s eyes no longer on her, she feels it safe to wince. As Yaz and Ryan walk up to them, she plasters on a huge smile and turns to River.

“It’s Doctor Jodie, actually,” she says, loud enough for Yaz and Ryan to hear, “Maybe should’ve mentioned. I’m a Doctor. Sometimes my friends just skip the Jodie part.”

“Oh are you now?” River says, clearly amused. But her eyes search her. The Doctor, ever the responsible one, ignores the hint of suspicion in them.

“Yaz, Ryan, what’s going on?” the Doctor says before they can voice their confusion. Yaz frowns, but she doesn’t say anything.

“We wanted to make sure we could eat this.” Ryan points at a bright red fruit in his hand. “Without growing whiskers. Again.”

“Nah, should be fine.” The Doctor smiles and Ryan gives Yaz half of it while raising the remaining half to his mouth. “No whiskers with that one. Tails on the other hand…” Ryan stops his hand before the fruit reaches his lips.

“Tails?”

“Or really big ears, I don’t quite remember,” the Doctor continues.

“You’re kidding,” he says. He sounds sure of it, but he doesn’t eat the fruit.

“Yes she is,” Yaz says, taking a bite out of her piece. “Because she is _such_ a comedian.”

“I _am_ such a comedian, thank you very much.”

“I’m sure you are,” River says. The Doctor ignores just how well she can read her wife’s expression, and tells herself she’s come to the very logical (but faulty) conclusion that she’s not _the Doctor_. “Is that why you’re wearing that ridiculous outfit?” The Doctor scrunches her nose and adjusts her jacket. And tries to ignore that River making fun of her clothing choices isn’t something so _them_.

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s thematically correct.” She points to Ryan. “Look, he’s wearing it too.” But River doesn’t look away from her until Graham joins the conversation. When did he show up?

“You should see her usual outfit,” he says, “This at least has _some_ sense of style.”

“Oi!” The Doctor snarls at him, and River laughs.

“I bet she can’t be any worse than my husband,” River says, letting her fingers fly over the seams of the Doctor’s jacket, and the Doctor bites back an offended nose scrunch.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Yaz responds.

“Hey, you said you liked it! And of course I dress better than him,” the Doctor says to River. She is, after all, older than he had been and should therefore have improved her fashion sense.

“You’ve heard of him then?” River raises her eyebrows.

“Well,” the Doctor swallows, “maybe once or twice.”

“So the fact that your friends call you the-”

“Not that he doesn’t dress well,” the Doctor says, desperate to cut River off before her sentence leads to a conversation she doesn’t want to have to explain, “because I’m sure he does.”

“You would definitely think so.”

“I don’t imagine he could look better than you though.” Again, her mouth is out there saying things she doesn’t want it to. Not that she doesn’t want to tell River how beautiful she looks, because of course she does.

“Oh, you’re a flatterer? How delightful,” River says with a smirk, and the Doctor’s face grows red.

“Only for you,” she stammers out, promising herself to get a new mouth that doesn’t betray her as soon as she gets out of here.

“Okay that’s it, c’mon Yaz,” Ryan says. In the corner of her eye he locks her arm in his .

“Yeah, let’s leave them alone,” Yaz agrees. “I’d rather not be here if she’s gonna be embarrassingly flustered.”

“See you later, Doc,” Graham says, and River looks a bit taken aback. Of course, the only reason the Doctor can tell is because she’s watching carefully.

“Looks like it’s just us then,” River says, and the warmth spreads from the back of Doctor’s neck to her face and her chest and _everywhere_. It’s just them, and that’s brilliant. All of this is something she’s been imagining for forever. River’s smile, their playful banter… It’s brilliant. But River doesn’t even know her. She doesn’t know who she is, and that is decidedly _not_ brilliant.

“Seems so,” she says.

“Now I can imagine a lot of things we could get up to, just the two of us.”

“Why do I have a feeling you’re not referring to dancing.”

“I could be, if you want me to.” If she wants her to… The Doctor wants River to leave, she wants her to go away and not think of this meeting ever again. Wants her not to get hurt. Except, she wants River to dance with her until her feet are sore, and then she wants them to… No, she can’t put herself through this.

“I’m sorry,” she says before turning to look the other way, getting up to her feet and taking a few steps away from River. “But I don’t think we should.”

But River is right behind her, and the Doctor can feel her presence. She really can’t win this time, can she? There’s no way she and River will come out of this encounter with anything but broken hearts.

“Why not?” River asks, which causes the Doctor to turn around to face her.

“For a start, you’re married,” she says, knowing that fact has never stopped River.

“Don’t you worry about that, he won’t mind. Besides, it’s just a dance, right?”

“It’s a bad idea,” the Doctor insists, and she hopes what River sees is a person who means that. Because even though she knows she should, she can’t bring herself to feel that way.

They stare at each other, neither knowing just what to say, when the man in the black suit turns up again. He tries to ask River for a dance, but she doesn’t even look at him. It only takes a “Maybe later” for him to disappear out into the mass of people.

“You should go,” the Doctor says with a sigh. “I’m sure there are lots of people who wouldn’t say no to a dance.”

“What about you?” River holds out a hand towards her. “Would you like a dance?”

“I-” The Doctor gulps. She really should say no, shouldn’t she. She’ll say no, and River will leave and she won’t have to debate this in her head anymore. No harm will be done. On the other hand… When has she ever been able to say no to River?

“What’s it gonna be?” River says, smirking at her. And her face is more beautiful than ever, and her smile is like coming home, and-

“Yes.” The Doctor groans internally at her mouth, but she doesn’t mean it. Not really. “Yes, I would like a dance.”

“Then come on,” River says as the Doctor lays her hand in hers with a smile, and she drags her onto the dancefloor.

And while she should feel bad for risking everything like this… it’s hard to do that when she’s in her wife’s arms. When the music is playing and they’re spinning in circles, and nothing else matters.

But, there’s this nagging thought in the back of her head. That this is just a phase. Only temporary happiness. Still, she keeps it locked in the back of her head. She’s become quite good at drowning out thoughts like that. More or less.

The ones she hasn’t had as much practice ignoring are bothering her much more. Illogical dreams. Hoping that maybe, this is a River that has been through the Library. A River she could see again, could be with for real. A River who will be around forever. Someone she could keep spinning with forever, who she doesn't have to leave after this party.

“You’re a surprisingly good dancer,” River mumbles, and the Doctor doesn’t know if she should feel complimented or offended.

“Why wouldn’t I be a good dancer?” she asks, feigning total ignorance as to who she is and any possibility of River suspecting it. River looks down at the rainbow pin on her collar, brows furrowed.

“I don’t know, you just… Feel like someone who’s not the most coordinated person.”

“Reminds you of someone like that?”

“Yeah.” River’s eyes meet hers, smirk on her lips. “I guess that’s it.”

“Is that good or bad?” the Doctor asks, and River laughs.

“Good. Definitely.”

“That’s good. Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”

“Are you sure about that?” River raises an eyebrow and the Doctor’s cheeks grow warm. But River only laughs at her face, and the Doctor grins.

And they continue to spin around the room, the music merely a backdrop.

But she knows it won't last. It’s always been this way. River shows up, and for a while it’s the best thing ever. But she always leaves in the end. For both of their sakes. For the sake of the universe’s sanity.

She knows it’s necessary. But that doesn't stop it from being painful. So she does what she can to avoid thinking of it. She laughs when River twirls her around, and she laughs when she herself nearly trips over her own feet (because River is right, she isn’t the most coordinated person). She blushes when River smiles at her, and she feels her heart rates rise when a slower song comes on, and they’re suddenly pressed against each other.

Why doesn’t River see how in love with her she is? Why doesn’t she see that this is the Doctor, right in front of her, loving her as much as she has ever done? Why can’t she see how big of a risk the Doctor is taking to dance with her right here, right now.

Not that she necessarily wants her to see that. In reality, it would probably prove to be quite the problem. In reality… it’s probably better if they just keep dancing, and she doesn’t make a bigger deal out of this than she has to.

The music is still slow and they’re still dancing in rhythm to it when their eyes lock. Neither of them look away. When the song comes to an end they stop, and River frowns. Her gaze explores the Doctor’s.

“You have old eyes,” she mumbles, and the Doctor curses in her head.

“I’ve seen a lot,” she tries. “That tends to age them up.”

“I suppose so.” But River doesn’t sound convinced.

A new song prevents the Doctor from having to answer.

“One more dance?” she asks and offers her hand, and River chuckles.

“And here I thought you were the one who didn’t want to dance to begin with?”

“People change.”

“And you quite drastically, it would seem.”

A few songs later and they’ve ended up back at the bar. River convinces the Doctor to take a sip of a drink, but despite the fruity taste she can’t escape cringing at the alcohol. Still, she finishes it, because it’s worth it to see how River smiles at her (admittedly probably ridiculous looking) reaction.

“Is that an earring with a star cuff?” River asks, and the Doctor excitedly nods her head.

“Yeah!” She touches it with her finger, lining the contours. “Love stars, me. They’re brilliant.”

“They are, aren’t they?” River gazes out into the crowd.

“I think I could name every constellation you can see from this planet,” the Doctor says thoughtfully. “Probably every star too.”

“You’re not one to be modest, that’s for sure” River chuckles. “Let’s do it.” She grabs the Doctor’s arm and drags her out of her seat.

“Let’s do what?”

“Go up to the roof.” River points towards it. “So you can tell me what they’re called.”

“I didn’t mean we had to-”

“Hush,” River puts a finger on the Doctor’s lips, “if you say something like that you’re gonna have to prove it, dear.”

“You don’t think I can do it?” the Doctor challenges, ignoring the bittersweet taste River calling her dear leaves in her ears.

“I think I won’t believe it until you show me.”

“Well, prepare to be impressed, Professor Song.”

The Doctor lets herself be led out from the big hall and out into a smaller, quieter corridor. She skips to keep up with River (really, has her legs always been this long?), but makes sure not to let go of her hand.

River drags her around corner after corner and up a pair of stairs, and maybe it’s the fact that they’ve both drunk a bit, maybe it’s the general lightheadedness of the absurdity of the situation, but she wobbles and stumbles into River. River who, trustworthy as ever, catches the Doctor and steadies her. The Doctor’s breath hitches in her throat at the feeling of River’s hand on her arms.

“I didn’t think you’d be such a lightweight,” River says with a smirk.

“I’m not!” The Doctor scrunches her nose up at this accusation. “I don’t even get drunk, that’s how much of a not-lightweight I am.”

“Sure you don’t.”

The Doctor huffs as she stands up straighter and crosses her arms.

“I don’t,” she insists. Though thinking back, it’s not impossible that the drink she’d gotten had contained ginger. Trying to change the subject, her eyes scurry around the corridor. It’s dim, empty and cold, nothing like the buzz of the party. “Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” she mumbles as she throws a look behind them.

“I’m almost certain we’re not.” River smirks. “But where’s the fun in following the rules?”

“I never liked doing that,” the Doctor says with a slight smile.

“Me neither.”

The Doctor tilts her head towards River and meets her wife’s eyes. They’re staring into hers, and she-

“Is that music?” she asks with a frown.

“It must be coming from the window.” River nods at the open window behind the Doctor. A glance out of it reveals a green courtyard beneath them, and across it and a storey below them the yellow light of the ballroom sips out.

The Doctor holds out her hand.

“What about another dance, Professor Song?”

“I thought we were gonna stargaze,” River says, but she takes her hand.

“The stars can wait. They’ve been there for billions of years, I think they’ll shine for five more minutes.”

“If you say so.”

The music is slow, and the dancing is more like turning around on the spot. The light breeze from the window is cool against the Doctor’s neck, and River’s hand is warm against hers. When River twirls her around, the Doctor beams.

Only she’s dazed from the spinning, and when she tries to grasp River’s shoulder, she stumbles forward into her. For a moment they lose balance, and with a small giggle they come to a halt. Gazing up at River, the Doctor gulps.

This is a bad idea. All of it. It’s dangerous and it’s reckless and they should definitely slow down.

“River,” she breathes as her eyes briefly flicker from her eyes down to her lips. “I-”

River’s body slams into hers. Their lips meet, and the Doctor can’t think of anything but the way River pushes her up against the wall and how familiar she tastes and how her skin feels so soft and how much this is a _bad idea_.

But what the hell. She’s been having bad ideas for several millennia, and none of them have killed her _or_ the universe. Well, she says none… But in the end it’s always turned out alright! More or less.

And this feels so right and _god_ she wishes they could stay this way forever. That they didn’t have to go separate ways and that she didn’t have to pretend to be some stranger.

But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe all that matters is that they’ve had their time. And even though they can’t have more of it, they’ll always love each other. Or something. At least that’s what she tells herself.

Her thoughts are interrupted by River’s mouth leaving hers and making its way to the side of her neck. With a shudder she exhales and leans her head back against the wall. River’s breath is hot against the Doctor’s neck, but then it’s gone. She opens her eyes and with a confused look peers up at River, whose brows are furrowed, lips tightly pursed, and feelings hidden behind a scrutinizing stare.

“What is it?” The Doctor tilts her head and frowns, taking a small step forward.

“Nothing,” River mumbles, her hand already lightly placed on the same spot she’d abandoned not five seconds earlier. Just under the Doctor’s jawline, right where you’d put your hand if you wanted to-

“No,” the Doctor blurts out as she backs into the wall. “River, don’t.”

“You have two pulses.” River’s voice is low but firm, and her eyes are searching for the Doctor’s.

“Do I?” The Doctor does her best to avoid meeting her wife’s stare. “That’s nice. You know what, I think I got to-”

“Why do you have two pulses?”

“I never said I was human.” _Shit_. Why does her mouth have to keep on saying things it really shouldn’t.

“There aren’t any humans here,” River says. “You know that.”

“Well, I meant,” the Doctor stutters, “you know what, it doesn’t matter, because I really have to, you know… dash.”

She turns to leave, but River’s hand shoots out and grabs her wrist. She inhales harshly.

“Why do you have two pulses?”

“Well,” the Doctor babbles, “evolutionary, it has a lot of advantages. Great blood circulation, quick metabolism, backup heart for medical emergencies-”

“Turn around,” River breathes, and the Doctor can practically feel the pulses in her wrist pound against River’s palm.

“Really, there’s no need to-” she tries.

“Look at me.” It’s not more than a whisper, but the words echo inside the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor snatches her hand from River’s grip and it’s with heavy hearts she stumbles away from her wife. If she throws even the tiniest glance or evasive comment at her, she’s worried she might never leave this corridor.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me like that.” The shake in River’s voice takes away from the edge of her threat, and the Doctor flinches at it. It’s all her fault. She let it get too far, and now she might have made an irreparable mistake. Still, she tells herself, if she can just get out of her sight everything just might fall into place. In one way or another. Hopefully.

But it’s hard to feel hopeful when the thing you’re supposed to be hoping is that your dead wife instantly forgets your encounter and never spends another second thinking of you.

And it’s certainly not hopeful she feels when she finds herself up on the roof, furiously blinking tears out of her eyes. The cold night air provides a layer of reality, but other than that everything is blurry and messy and quite honestly the opposite of hopeful.

She leans against the railing that borders the roof from the empty space below. With a whimpering sigh she closes her eyes and promises not to let this happen again.

Because of course she had to mess this up. Of course nothing can ever be easy, can it?

“Doctor?” Yaz asks from right behind her, and along with a short sizzling noise, it brings her back to reality. “What are you doing up here?”

 _Great_.

“Just looking at the stars,” she lies. After taking a moment to strengthen herself she turns to look at Yaz, who’s stepped up next to her. “What about you?”

Yaz shifts uneasily.

“I was looking for you, actually,” she says.

“What for?” It’s a little too short and a little too sharp, but the Doctor can’t bring herself to care.

“Well, Ryan and I happened to catch a glimpse of the woman you were… spending time with,” she says. “In a corridor all by herself, and she looked a bit upset, and we couldn't find you so-”

“Did you talk to her?” The words are out of her mouth before she knows she wants to say them. Yaz looks taken aback, and shakes her head.

“No.” A small sigh of relief leaves the Doctor’s mouth. “She looked like she wanted to be alone, if I’m being honest,” Yaz says and the Doctor has to bite her lip for her face to stay more or less emotionless. “We just wanted to check up on you,” Yaz continues. “Given that, well, something seemed to have happened.”

“If it did, I wasn’t involved in it,” the Doctor lies swiftly, hearts hammering her chest from the inside.

“Oh.” Yaz looks surprised. “Okay. I just assu-”

“ _Liar._ ”

For a split second the Doctor’s blood runs cold. Some time during her and Yaz’s conversation River must have appeared on the roof, because now she’s leaning against the door frame, the pleats of her skirt fluttering in the wind, vortex manipulator strapped to her wrist. _Of course_. The Doctor really should’ve remembered what a vortex manipulator sounds like.

“Not that I should be surprised,” River says as she approaches them, a bitter smile on her face. “Rule one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the Doctor says, staring defiantly into River’s eyes.

“There it is again.” River rolls her eyes.

“What’s rule one?” Yaz asks, and the tension of their shared gaze keeps them both from looking at her.

“The Doctor lies,” River says, and she swallows. There goes any hope of this going smoothly.

“River, this can’t happen,” she says quietly. “You can’t know about me. I’m serious. _Spoile_ -”

“Oh, shut up dear,” River groans. “No spoilers.”

“What do you mean no spoilers?” The Doctor’s words threaten to get stuck in her throat on their way out.

“I got out.”

“You… what?”

“You heard me.”

“Out from… the, er?”

“Library? Yes.”

“How?” The Doctor frowns.

“I’ve got a few contacts,” River says.

“What kind of contacts do you have that can do that?”

“None you would approve of, Sweetie.” River smirks.

“Sorry to interrupt… Whatever this is,” Yaz says and they both jump. “But could you please explain what’s going on? Because I’m very lost.”

“Oh, right.” The Doctor scrunches her nose and gestures at River. “Well, this is River. River, this is Yaz.”

“Professor River Song. Pleasure to meet you.” River extends her hand to Yaz.

“Er, you too.” Yaz glances at the Doctor. “So you two know each other then?”

“You could say that.” River smirks. “I’m her wife.”

“ _Her what?_ ” Graham says from the door, and the Doctor’s head snaps to look at him and Ryan.

“Wife,” River says as she grabs the Doctor’s hand and pulls her into an embrace. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got a bit of catching up to do. See you in a sec.”

The world folds in on itself, and when it stabilises Yaz, Ryan, and Graham are gone. The Doctor groans.

“Really? Was that necessary? They’re gonna have so many questions.”

“Not much more than they would’ve had otherwise,” River says, and it’s true. Now, she’ll at least have the time to gather herself before they start firing at her. She sniffs the air. By the smell, they’ve travelled back about an hour. Still…

“Cheap and nasty time travel,” she grumbles, and River scoffs.

“Oh please, shut up about that, will you. Not everyone has the luxury of owning a Tardis. The rest of us have to make do with what we can.”

“You really got out?” The Doctor eyes River. “Just like that?”

“It wasn’t easy, you know.” River rolls her eyes as she turns to the railing and places her hands on it, eyes fixed on the view. The Doctor joins her, the metal cool beneath her fingers, and the breeze brushing strands of hair out of her face.

“I didn’t say that.” She gulps. “Sorry I ran away from you before. I thought… I thought I’d messed everything up. I didn’t want to have to erase your memory. I should’ve listened.”

“Yeah well, you’ve always been an idiot,” River laughs, and the Doctor’s lips curl. When she knows, she doesn’t understand how she didn’t see it before. The crinkles around River’s eyes look just like they did that first time they met, and the way she moves is dreamlike—like she hasn’t quite adjusted to being alive. But it doesn’t make any sense.

“River… I said goodbye to you.” The Doctor looks her up and down. “Ages ago. You faded, River. How are you not… gone?”

“I wasn’t sure it would work.” River shakes her head and stares past the Doctor. “I didn’t want to let you know what I was going to do until I already had. Until I knew it would work.”

“I could have helped!” the Doctor whispers with a shake of her head.

“If you could, you would have done it already,” River says with the tiniest hint of a smile, and the Doctor swallows. “And if I told you then… well, on Darillium. You would’ve known.”

“I still would have stayed,” the Doctor breathes and River opens her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. The Doctor clears her throat and says, “When did you get out?”

“Few months back.”

“Why didn’t you find me?”

River chuckles. “It’s not like I didn’t try to. You wouldn’t answer your phone.” Memories flash in front of her. Calls from River: stared at longingly but ultimately left unanswered, assumed to have reached her younger self.

“That’s never stopped you before,” the Doctor points out. “Aren’t you the woman who graffitied the oldest cliff face in the universe? Jumped out of a fifty-storey building head first?”

“Mhm. That does sound a lot like me.” River smirks and steps closer, her eyes travelling up and down the Doctor. “Speaking of being a woman…” she says and the Doctor’s cheeks threaten her with going bright pink.

“Why did you take us here?” the Doctor asks, hands gesturing at their surroundings and eyes flickering everywhere except River’s lips.

“I seem to remember you promising me stargazing,” River smirks, “and with all your friends showing up I didn’t think we’d get much privacy. Besides, you looked like you were about to pass out in shock.”

“I did not!” The Doctor pulls a face, her nose scrunched and jaw dropped.

“If you say so, dear,” River says with a tantalizing smile, and the Doctor swallows her protests.

“How much time do we have until I show up?” she asks with a glance at the door.

“Forty-five minutes or so?”

“That’s more than enough time to stargaze, isn’t it?”

“Definitely. We might even have some time over, if we’re lucky.” River smiles, and the Doctor leans against her, soft smile on her lips

“If we’re lucky,” she agrees.


End file.
